


Cloudy Eyes

by QWERTYouAndMe



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor Lives AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Hospital AU, References to Drugs, Slow Burn, Very headcanon centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-10-18 11:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10616379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QWERTYouAndMe/pseuds/QWERTYouAndMe
Summary: Evan had to try and find something positive in here.That was so much easier said than done.At least the wallpaper was nice?Who was he kidding, even that was awful.





	1. Belief

**Author's Note:**

> make me famuz plez

Connor wasn't  _trying_ to kill himself.

He hated life, but not that much. 

No matter how many times he said it, nobody believed him.

_'Mom, I wasn't trying to- to-'_

It hadn't passed his lips then. His mother was too distraught, too angry, too shocked to think that _her little boy_ could've _done_ such a thing. She didn't listen to him, just sat beside him and talked through tears. Connor tuned her out and wished it  _had_ killed him. As much as he had a broken relationship with his family, he hated hearing his mother cry. 

But he hadn't been  _trying_ to kill himself. 

See, he'd started doing drugs when the antidepressants had stopped working.

He'd been to a therapist at 14 after he realised that the constant state of 'I can't be happy, what's wrong with me?' wasn't just him being broken and he'd told somebody. Therapy helped, for a while. His parents were advised to put him on antidepressants, which they did, and they worked, for a while. But therapy started to hurt, so Connor stopped going to therapy. The medicine stopped working, so he stopped taking it. People just assumed he was getting over the bad times. In fact, they just got worse. He was scared that if they didn't get better he'd do something awful. So he turned to drugs.

And it  _helped._

Slowly, he developed an addiction. His parents made no move to stop him or seek help. They saw his dependency on drugs as just a minor inconvenience; the addiction a cry for attention instead of a cry for help. So Connor did more drugs, and his family pretended there was nothing they could do; pretended it wasn't even a problem. They sat downstairs and ate their chicken while Connor was in his room trying to silence his tears.

He only got aggressive toward them once. He was only just a week clean, an effort forced upon him by himself. Everyone saw it as an inconvenience; nobody cared if it was helping. He tried to stop, for the sake of his family, and for a short while it worked. But he snapped at everyone; he didn't get enough sleep, didn't eat enough, shook like a leaf. And Zoe was being irritating for the sake of it, and Connor got aggressive. After that, he made no attempts to stop smoking again.

The first day of senior year he shouldn't have been at school. But he was, and he was irritable. Usually a day like that wouldn't be too bad, but he'd exploded and done a stupid thing. 

Evan Hansen was possibly the only person Connor could ever have hoped to become friends with. He was also the only person below Connor on the social ladder. So when he'd blown up and pushed him that day at school he'd felt awful. It was only after school he decided to try and find Evan and apologise. He was lucky to have found him, really. In an attempt to be nice, he'd retrieved the only other paper on the printer - Evan's - just to have a reason to start a conversation. It was going well; Connor had some hope inside him that he might actually make a friend, and then he'd looked down at the paper and seen Zoe's name and physically felt the walls shoot back up again. 

Everyone was always comparing him to Zoe. Zoe was the effortlessly perfect daughter, Zoe was their parents' favourite; they didn't even try to hide it. Of course, when he had a chance of being friends with someone, they thought Zoe was the angel their parents made her out to be. 

That night Connor had gone home and smoked until he couldn't feel his fingers. He'd folded Evan's letter as small as he could and pressed the rectangle of paper into his palm and cried silently and tried to forget. 

But the day stuck in his head; no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't will the memories away. He felt horrible; he felt like a monster; he needed to forget. So he kept smoking, kept trying to forget. 

Connor wasn't  _trying_ to kill himself. He just needed to feel better and the drugs weren't working again. He thought he knew his limits, and to an extent he did. He wasn't dead, at least not yet. 

The risk he took was calculated, he just forgot to carry the 2. 

He wasn't  _trying_ to kill himself. 

* * *

 

"What's your name and date of birth?"

For a moment, it slipped him. After a second of awkward silence and an odd look from the nurse in front of him, he sighed and swallowed thickly. 

"Connor Murphy. November 30th, 1999."

"You're in room 22C. No roomie yet, lucky thing."

Connor wasn't  _trying_ to kill himself.

Why the fuck was he here?

 


	2. Troubled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (Evan 'fell' out of the tree after his encounter with connor in this AU sue me. some suicide talk in this chapter pls be careful loves also theres some vomming ahead be prepared)

Evan Hansen cared too much. 

He cared about people he saw crying and he cared about what everyone thought of him and he cared about what he could've done to Connor Murphy.

He wouldn't say he cared about Connor Murphy per se, but the last time he'd seen him Connor had been really upset. Rumour going around was that Connor had tried to kill himself.

That was Evan's fault. 

As he walked up the path he'd walked up so many times, that was all he could think. _Your fault, your fault_. The little voice in his head jeered it like a child.  _Your fault, your fault. Na-na-nana-na._

An eye for an eye, he'd thought as he started to scale the tree. It was the tallest tree in that forest.  _Your fault, your fault._  

From the top, everything below looked so small. He could see out over the top of the whole forest. Everything seemed so small compared to the pounding in his temples, which was loud and big and all he knew.  _Your fault, your fault_. It was like something was scratching to get out. Maybe if he fell right he could break the back of his skull and set whatever it was free. The thought made him gag, holding tight to the trunk of the tree as he heaved. He tried not to vomit, but a mixture of the nerves and the pain, the weight of what he was going to do and the awful pictures in his mind was too much. Somehow, he miraculously kept his balance as he retched and rejected the little food he'd eaten that day. 

There could be no more stalling. He had to do it _now_ , the voice was getting impatient.  _Your fault, your fault, just end it already._

This tree was forty feet tall. Surely that would be enough.  

Don't even think, just do it.

_Your fault._

Evan let go.

* * *

 

"What's your name and date of birth?"

Evan didn't want to speak to this nurse. He didn't want to speak to anyone. Because, if for no other reason, his throat hurt too much to talk. Ten minutes of screaming - both from pain and bitterness at your own failure - does that to you. 

"E-Evan Hansen," He got out hoarsely. "March 10th, 2000."

"Thank you sweetie. You're in room 22C."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> hell, comment the whole of the bee movie script for all i care  
> just please comment  
> pls  
> (regular updates fridays)


	3. Stumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (Yet MORE vomit in this chapter i just don't know what's wrong with me ;p)

Evan stumbled through the blank corridors slowly, repeating the number the nurse had given him over and over.  _22C, 22C, 22C._ If he stopped saying it to himself, the little voice from the tree might come back and sneer at him for failing. 

_I know, I know, you're not out. It's not my fault._

That was ironic. 

 _Your fault. Your fault_. 

Evan shook his head, which instantly hurt, and kept going. 

16C, 18C, 20C, there; 22C. The door was closed, he could hear water running inside. He knocked twice with a shaky hand, before pushing open the door. 

There was very little in the room. Two beds in opposite corners, a large desk on which a few pieces of paper, stapled together, lay messily. There were a couple of chairs and small bedside cabinets next to each bed. At the end of the room, there was a closed door: presumably, it was a bathroom, as there was the sound of water still coming from there. The carpet was a garish blue that made Evan wince and worsened his headache the more he looked at it.

He looked at one of the beds; it was messy and unmade, with a jacket on the pillow and a pair of shoes that he felt he recognised at the foot. He shook his head, then reminded himself not to do that anymore, and sat on the edge of the other bed. It was crisply made with clean sheets, and he fiddled with the comforter under his fingers. It tied him to the ground to keep him from drifting off.  _Earth to Evan, you failed._

* * *

 

This was the exact reason Connor didn't eat much.  _This._ He grimaced, spitting water into the sink. He looked at himself, running a hand over his face.  _Not long now, and you'll be out of here._ He left the faucet running as he heard the door open through the paper-thin walls. Probably another nurse, best bide his time for a while longer. Besides, he still had some food in him, and God forbid his stomach let him keep anything down in this place. He'd been here for a few days now and he'd barely managed to keep any food down the whole time. The only safe things here were the apples. 

After a while of not vomiting up the rest of the contents of his stomach, which Connor counted as a success, he rinsed his mouth one final time and turned off the faucet, sighing before exiting the bathroom. He looked at the floor, not at whoever was here, moving to sit on his bed. There was a long while of silence. That was odd. He could've sworn he'd heard the door open, and if there was a nurse here they'd have spoken by now. He looked up at the mystery person and froze. There, in front of him, with a face like he'd just seen a ghost and a painfully blank cast on his arm, was Evan Hansen.

* * *

 

"What happened to your arm?"

"You- Y-You're alive?" His throat still hurt from the screaming in the forest.

Connor raised an eyebrow, standing up and motioning to himself. "I'm fairly certain."  _Barely_.

"What- You- But- People- People said you died."

"They lied to you."

There was a long stretch of silence. 

"I'm sorry." Evan's eyes were starting to fill with tears. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the relief; he hadn't fucked up badly enough to end Connor's life.  _Or Connor hadn't fucked up enough to end his life, either one worked._ Maybe it was the way Connor spoke to him - soft and like he wasn't angry. Was he angry? Still? Evan didn't get angry often enough to know how long you typically stayed angry for. He imagined it was quite a while. 

"Why?"

He snapped out of his thoughts. "Wh-What?"

"You walked in here, like, five minutes ago. You've had no chance to fuck shit up."  _Not yet._

Evan couldn't reply. Connor didn't seem angry with him. He shook his head.  _Evan, stop shaking your head._

"Why are you here, anyway?"

He was still lost in his thoughts, so the question startled him. "Hm?"  _Oh my god he probably thinks you're so annoying and that you're not listening to him. Get a grip, Evan, stop being such a fuck up._

"What are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you..."

Connor gave him an odd look, and he stuttered to repair his phrasing. "I-I mean, I mean, obviously not the same thing, but I'm here for the same reason, or at least I think so, I shouldn't assume, that's really rude of me-" He trailed off, "Sorry."

"You... are here because you have to be."

"Yes."

"Not because you want to be."

"Y-Yes."

"And this is your room?"

Evan just nodded. Connor took a deep breath. 

Alrighty then. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> hell, comment the whole of never gonna give you up by rick astley for all i care.  
> just  
> please comment  
> plz


	4. Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mak me famuz plez  
> (Sorry for the late upload!)

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today's going to be a good day, and here's why..._

Evan bit his lip softly. Why? He didn't even know why he was writing this letter; he didn't have to. He wasn't going to be seeing Dr. Sherman anytime soon, and he was the one who set Evan the assignment. He thought about it for a second, then looked back down at the page. This was one of the only familiar things in here. He knew nothing, not here. He had some clothes and that was it. Everything else in here was new and strange: this letter was just another thing linking him to the ground to stop him from floating away into space.

So he  _had_ to think of some reasons that today was going to be a good day. 

He looked around the room: not much here. The carpet still hurt his head to look at, and he could hear all of the noises from outside. It was a bit too much for him. Someone walked past dragging their feet; across the hall, someone shut a door too hard. There was a bird singing outside, the branches of a tree shifting in the breeze. Evan cringed. Through the small window, orange light filtered in, doing its best to push through the flimsy curtains. The sun was making its way west.

Why was today going to be a good day? Evan had to find something positive in here. 

That was _so_ much easier said than done. 

He looked around the room. At least the wallpaper was nice?

Who was he kidding, even that was awful. 

He swallowed thickly. His throat was scratchy and dry, but he was  _not_ about to ask Connor where he could get a drink.

Maybe that could be why today was going to be a good day? Connor was here. Add that to the list of things tethering him to Earth. He knew Connor - or, he recognised him; he wasn't new and that meant he wasn't scary. Evan had to repeat that to himself a few times. Connor wasn't scary. Yes, Evan was a bit on-edge since he'd raised his voice at school, and pushed him, but no, Connor wasn't scary. Yes, he could probably break Evan's other arm if he wanted, but no, he wouldn't do that. Yes, but no.  

Connor was a lot different to how Evan had imagined him being: he'd always thought of Connor as a perpetually petulant person who didn't want anything to do with anyone else. But he didn't seem like that here. Maybe it was the weight of being here that had changed his personality. Maybe he was actually like this. Evan hoped it was the latter. 

_Why was today going to be a good day?_

Evan looked at the paper and sighed. He was writing with an indigo marker, but it was starting to dry out. Most of the markers here were. He sighed again, tapping softly on the desk. 

"What is  _wrong_ with you?" Connor's voice was soft but demanding, and it wrenched him from his thoughts.

He turned around in the chair, stammering. Connor was lying on top of the comforter on his bed, with the pillow held to his chest. He was staring blankly at the ceiling, but obviously talking to Evan. 

"Oh, I'm- uh- I'm just, I'm writing a letter? A- A letter to myself? It's a project, I have to give myself a pep talk every day in a letter, and-" Evan swallowed heavily, cutting himself off. 

Connor sat up, pushing the pillow behind him. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment before standing up, making his way over to the desk and leaning on it nonchalantly. Evan could see the way he trembled slightly, and knew he was leaning so he didn't fall over. That was okay. 

"Dear Evan Hansen," Connor read aloud. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smile very briefly and he reached into the pocket of his jacket. He still had the paper in there from the first day of school, folded as small as he could get it. He dropped it onto the table and they both just looked at it for a few moments. "That's yours. I- I never gave you it back." 

Usually, Connor wouldn't have even stood up. He wouldn't have even paid attention to Evan, he'd have just sat there in his own little world and counted the seconds until he would be out of here. He didn't know why he'd said anything. But he'd read Evan's letter so many times, he felt like he really knew him, even if they'd barely ever spoken. 

For what seemed like forever, Evan looked at the paper. He didn't dare touch it. But Connor had said it himself: 'That's yours.' With a shaky hand, he reached out and took it, not needing to unfold it to know what it was. "Thank you," He murmured raspily. 

So Connor had kept it. Even after all this time. _What did that mean? Did he care? Surely he must care, right? To keep it for so long? Don't be stupid, Evan, of course he doesn't care. But maybe he did, just a little bit?_

Evan sort of hoped he did. Not in a gay way or anything, because if there was one thing Evan Hansen was, it was straight, but to have Connor care, even just a little bit, would be nice. It would mean someone actually cared about him. He could only wish. 

He tucked the paper away and didn't think about any of it again. 

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today's going to be a good day, and here's why._

_Today, someone might care about you, and not just because they have to._

_That's enough to get you through today._

The rest of the paper was taken up by little flowers. Connor even drew one. Evan folded it up and kept it with the other one in the drawer next to his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment if you liked it  
> Drop a comment if you hated it  
> Hell, comment something in russian for all i care.  
> Just  
> pls comment  
> pls


	5. CONNOR :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (Regular updates every friday and tuesday)

Evan wasn't sure what to do with himself most of the time. There weren't many people his age here. Connor seemed to have found a friend in a girl who looked about their age with dull red hair who always wore baseball shirts and had a very small tattoo on her hand of a guitar. Evan was too scared to approach either of them. He only talked to Connor when Connor talked to him, which wasn't often. Most of the time he was very alone. 

That was what brought this on. 

He was all alone and he didn't know anybody and there were too many people talking and too much happening to take in all at once. Evan couldn't move; people would look at him and stop talking and watch him. Besides, there was nowhere he could go. He could run back to his room, but what would he do there? Just work himself further into a panic. So he sat on one side of the room, in a corner, and did his best to block out the noise and focus on the nonsense he was drawing on this piece of paper in front of him. Occasionally, he'd look up at Connor and the girl, who both looked immensely bored.  _Well,_ Evan thought,  _they obviously haven't discovered the joys of scribbling on a piece of paper while trying not to have a huge freakout._

He'd drawn ten little boxes and coloured them all in green when he looked up again at Connor. That was all that was anchoring him down today: Connor. Connor wasn't new; Connor wasn't scary; Connor was his cornerstone. But this time, Connor looked back. Their gazes met for a second, and Evan's blue eyes widened in panic. He looked back down at his paper and bit his lip. God, please don't let Connor come over.

If he approached, Evan would do one of two things. 

Either, he'd start to panic, blunder himself into a frenzy, and probably start crying. 

Or, he'd cling to Connor like a scared child, and probably start crying. 

Either way, Evan was probably going to cry if Connor came over. 

There was nothing for a moment, and Evan thought himself to be in the clear. But then, the sound of a chair being pulled out. 

"Evan?" 

No words came forth. Evan didn't know how to respond. He looked up: Connor, of course, but he looked concerned. Why did he look worried? That just made Evan more worried. What was wrong?

"Are you alright?" 

Yet again, words failed to present themselves. Evan just nodded. Connor did not look convinced. He didn't say anything for a while, but Evan could hear the tearing of paper and the sound of a dry marker writing quickly.

_You look terrible._

Evan nodded again, then looked up at Connor. He really didn't seem angry. There was a long pause, filled up by the general noise of the room. Connor took the paper back.

_Do you need a minute?_

_Yes._

He wrote too fast, too messily, but Connor didn't seem phased. He stood up, waiting for Evan, who fumbled to cap the marker he'd been drawing with and then stood. Connor grabbed the pen and the note and started to walk, trusting Evan to follow, which he did, until they were in an empty corridor. The noise was still present, but less so than before. Evan leant against a wall. 

"You okay?" Connor asked him quietly, and he nodded. 

"Everything's just so  _new_ and so  _different_ and- and- it's not- I don't-"

"I know."

"You- You do?"

Connor nodded. "If you want, I'm here. You don't have to avoid me."

Evan could've cried. "But- You have a friend, and-"

"If you want, I'm here. She's nice."

Evan nodded slightly, hesitating for a second. "Thank you."

"I know how hard it is. No big deal." There was quiet for a second. Evan took a deep breath. "So- uh- nobody's signed your cast."

They both looked down at the painfully bare cast on Evan's arm and he nodded. "I know."

"Well, I'll sign it."

"Oh, you don't have to."

Connor shook his head, "Give me your arm."

He wrote with the marker, big, block letters that filled up almost the whole side. 'CONNOR :)'

"I like the smile, that was a nice touch..." Evan nodded, smiling softly. "Thank you?"

"Yeah. Whatever. Now we can both pretend that we have friends." 

* * *

 

Connor walked with him back into the room. Nobody even spared them a glance. 

They sat at the table that the girl was sat at. She was really nice. She signed her name just under Connor's with a red marker. 

Mikaela.

Evan was a lot better after that.

They all huddled around a table as they ate dinner, and Connor slipped Evan the note from earlier under the table with a new message on it. 

_=)_

He kept the paper with his letters and the doodled flowers,  tucked away neatly in the drawer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment if you liked it  
> Drop a comment if you hated it  
> Hell, comment a keyboard smash for all i care.  
> just pls comment  
> pls  
> (Dont worry Mikaela isn't going to be a major chracter :p)


	6. Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plz

Evan wasn't sure what to make of it when he woke up to "You have visitors."

He knew it wasn't directed at him: he never had visitors. Nobody liked him.

Except Connor, who was here, and Mikaela, sort of, and she was also here.

So that meant Connor had visitors. Evan dreaded to think who. He thought of Connor's family. Zoe Murphy, who used to make him nervous and then didn't any more. Cynthia Murphy, who Evan had only heard about from other guys at school who all said that she was sexy. Larry Murphy, who was apparently nice enough, according to Jared, who - for some reason - he was helping with math. Evan didn't question it. 

Once whoever was talking to Connor had left, Evan got up and dressed in a hurry, folding his blue pajama bottoms, adorned with fuzzy yellow ducks, and tucking them under his pillow. He wore a sweater that was too big on him most days, but today he couldn't find it, so he stuck with his striped polo. Connor seemed less than approachable at the moment, so Evan avoided him for a while. He just sat on his bed and thought for a long while, until Connor emerged from the bathroom looking a lot softer than before. 

His hair was tied back in a messy half-bun-half-ponytail. Evan could feel his cheeks flushing just looking at Connor, but he shook his head. _Evan, man, that's gay. You're not gay._

They walked together in silence, Connor slightly in front. He sat down next to Mikaela at breakfast and ate an apple almost angrily. That just put Evan on edge. 

Connor just went back to their room after he'd finished, and Evan followed suit. 

"You have visitors today?" He tried.

Connor just nodded, before swallowing thickly. "I don't want them to see me. They all think I'm suicidal."

"Aren't you?"  _Evan, that was a dumb question._

Connor just shook his head. "I wasn't."

Evan didn't know how to respond to that. When they got back to the room, Connor started to doodle on a scrap of paper with a tiny pencil, not speaking. But Evan was fine with not speaking. 

* * *

 

The door knocked. 

Connor dropped his paper and left the room. Evan glanced at it; it was covered in flowers. 

When Connor came back, almost an hour later, he was in tears.

Evan was far too scared to ask why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> i wrote this while living on a glass of juice and not enough sleep  
> i deserve a comment


	7. Hot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mak me famuz plez  
> (Mentions of self harm in this chapter. Please stay safe my beans!!)

The shower was weaker than Evan.

 

Since he'd become a little closer with Connor, since he'd started to find more and more tethers binding him to Earth, he'd started to come out of his protective casing a bit more. He held conversations, he walked places on his own sometimes. But he still had to down a cocktail of medicine every day just so he could barely get by. 

 

This was the hottest the water would go. It burned as it ran down his back.

 

He could still remember the day Connor's family came like it was burned into his brain. He'd cried for hours, Evan couldn't do anything. No matter what he tried to do or say, it was like he wasn't even getting through; like Connor was ten feet underwater and Evan was just screaming at the surface. Evan had to leave after a while, because Connor's crying was starting to make his heart heavy, and he had therapy anyway. "I'm sorry, Connor."

Once Evan had left, Connor cried so hard he was nearly sick. Absolutely alone again in this damn room. 

 

He still felt numb.

 

Two days ago Evan had woken to the sound of Connor shouting. He'd been confused, and then scared, and then he'd stood up and set a hand high on the back of Connor's arm, still not fully covered by the usual jacket. Evan could see the angry red scratches on his wrist. They were raw again; Connor had been clawing at them again with his fingernails, the usual black coating of which was now entirely gone. Once Evan's palm had touched Connor's skin, he'd frozen, words dissolving from his lips. The nurse he'd just been shouting at led him to his bed and sat him down, and Evan sat beside him. All Connor could say was 'I'm sorry'. He couldn't pull out any more words. Evan couldn't bring himself to ask why.

 

There was a burning in his eyes. He couldn't tell if it was soap or tears. 

 

Mikaela wasn't at breakfast. Connor didn't go to the group therapy session that day. He wore a jacket all day, even fell asleep in it.

 

_Your fault, your fault._

 

He knew it wasn't. But the scratching was back. He shut off the water before it could scratch too much.

 

That night Connor had shaken him awake, teary eyed. Evan had scooched over so he could sit down. There was a long silence. 

"Mikaela's dead."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"She killed herself. Hung herself with her own shirt."

Evan was silent for a second, pulling his knees up to his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Connor shook his head, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. He was just wearing a dark blue t-shirt, no hoodie. The marks on his arms - Evan noticed, both - were less angry now. "You didn't do anything. Just- We're friends, right?"

Evan had nodded profusely. Connor was the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend. 

"You'd tell me if you were going to-" Connor swallowed thickly. "If you wanted to- to- Wouldn't you?"

"Yes, y-yes, yes, of course."

"Okay." He blew out a long breath. "Okay. Is it okay if I sit with you for a bit? I can't get to sleep."

Evan nodded again, crossing his legs. Connor got up and tied up his hair into a ponytail, then dragged his blanket over. 

They talked about nothing for hours, laughing over dumb things that didn't matter. Connor playfully threatened to draw a dick on Evan's cast, but he didn't. 

Sometime around two, Evan joked about braiding Connor's hair. Connor was very excited by this, and let Evan give him a waterfall braid, which Connor insisted looked 'so hard!', but Evan found easy. Connor kept it in for the rest of the night.

* * *

 

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_Today is going to be a good day, and here's why, because today, it's only the early morning, and you're genuinely smiling. You haven't done this in a long time._

_Today is going to be a good day because you stayed up until four with Connor Murphy, and you laughed and smiled and felt genuinely happy. Today, you're sleepy, but it's worth it because you were up till four with the first real friend you've had in a long time._

**_Evan is a_ _nerd_ **

 

_Sincerely,_

_No longer your best friend,_

_Me._

**_:D_ **

 

He drew clouds around Connor's helpful additions to his letter, then turned it over and drew on the back. Connor taught him how to draw a rose, but then he fell asleep. Evan drew five roses until he was happy with how they looked and went to sleep himself. He didn't care that Connor was sleeping in his bed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> I wrote this while being attacked by unicorns.  
> I think i deserve your comments


	8. Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (Again, be safe with this chapter: mentions of suicide and self harm. be safe beans!)

"Evan, these came for you."

Evan looked up, eyeing the nurse in front of him warily. She was holding a paper bag with his name scrawled on it. "What is it?"

"Your mom dropped off some clothes for you. For Sunday." She smiled softly, setting the bag down on the table.

He hesitated. "My- My mom? Is she here?"

The nurse shook her head. "No, sweetie. She left these here and went home."

Oh.

"She just l-left?"

"'Fraid so, honey."

Oh.

Evan looked at the bag, swallowing thickly. His throat hurt, but not like before. His mom probably had class or work or something; probably had a million things to be doing.

But he hadn't seen her since before he tried to kill himself. It had been a long time.

He was still coming to terms with that. He tried to kill himself and he failed. Mikaela tried to kill herself and she succeeded. Connor wasn't trying to kill himself but he was still here. Sometimes, people's stories scared him half to death. So many people ended up sucking dick for meth.

If he stuck by Connor, and lived to get out of here, he'd be okay. He just had to keep telling himself that.  
Connor was really beating himself up over Mikaela. They were really close, and, even if he didn't say it, Evan could tell Connor was blaming himself. He was still scratching the cuts on his arms raw, opening the wounds whenever they started to heal; Evan could see the blood under his nails. It was clear he wasn't sleeping or eating right. But he was so distant, so untouchable, Evan couldn't approach him. He wouldn't dare. 

* * *

  
Sunday rolled around. There was a big black car outside that had people excited. Evan shuddered at it as he looked out of the window, fiddling with the top button of his shirt.  
He'd only ever been to one funeral before, and he was six, so he'd had no idea what was going on. And he hadn't known the person; it was a friend of his mom's who he was too 'shy' to talk to.  
Connor hadn't talked to him all day, and didn't until they were sandwiched between two nurses in the car. 

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, are you?" Evan lied through his teeth, hoping Connor didn't notice.

"I've used that phrase enough in my life to know that's bullshit. What's wrong?"

"Connor," One of the nurses scolded. Connor just rolled his eyes. 

"Are you upset?" Evan asked softly, "A-about her?"

"Of course I am. She was my friend. But you are my friend. Are you alright?"

"Sad. Terrified." 

Connor set a hand softly on Evan's shoulder. It stayed there for the rest of the silent car ride.

* * *

  
Mikaela's funeral was bullshit. Even Evan knew that. Everything they said abut her was false and they both knew it; it was as if they were just reading from a script.  
Connor was angry, Evan could feel it. He just flopped down onto his bed when they got back and cried silently and thought Evan didn't notice. 

_Dear Connor Murphy,_

_I'm here if you need to cry_

_I'm not gonna judge you._

_\- E.H_

 

And Jesus, did Connor cry. He cried for hours and hours and Evan let him. 

He'd have killed to have someone let him cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> i wrote this with the threat of the archive going down for 30 minutes biting my heels and i've had like 3 hours sleep over the past 3 days, i think i deserve a comment  
> :p


	9. Stay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (Idk if Sunday will become a regular update day, but I thought bc its mothers day over there in the states (I'm british) yall could have an extra chapter just bc. Maybe don't read this to your mum. If any of yall have mom troubles worry not, i am your new mom. I'm a guy but idc. im your mom now.)  
> (I have this hc that Jared has two little sisters whos names both begin with J because i think his parents would just be ~like that~ and one of them absoloutely a d o r e s evan ok thanks bye)

Connor was a lot calmer after that day. 

Before, he seemed so angry about everything. But after Mikaela's funeral and the conversation he'd had with Evan, he seemed different. Evan wasn't sure how to feel about it. 

Three days after the funeral, after dinner, there was a knock on the door. Connor opened it; Evan was trying to write a letter. 

"Is Evan in here?" came a voice. 

"Yeah," Connor sounded sceptical.

"There's someone here to see him."

Evan started, turning around. Could it be his mom? 

Connor looked over his shoulder and nodded in the direction of the door. Evan stood up excitedly, abandoning the thirteen words on the table. He followed the nurse eagerly, a smile starting to form on his face. She halted suddenly in front of a door, letting Evan open it for himself. There was a short corridor that ended in another door, which he went through. He found himself standing in a room with a grey carpet and grey walls, with comfy chairs and a small table. 

But no mom.

Evan's heart sank a little. No mom. But Jared. 

"H-Hi," Evan choked on the word as it came out. 

On the other side of the room, Jared stood up. He looked like he'd been crying, or just like he hadn't had enough sleep. "Evan-" He mumbled, looking unsure. 

Evan crossed the room; only five short steps. 

"You're okay~" 

Not really, Evan thought, but nodded. 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

He cringed as he remembered what he'd done before he climbed the tree. Jared was the only friend he'd had, and Evan had left him six text messages before he'd started climbing. 

 

_[Jared]_

_[I'm really sorry]_

_[You're the only friend I have, so I thought I should tell you.]_

_[I think I might've caused someone to die.]_

_[I can't not do this.]_

_[I'm really sorry.]_

 

"It's okay, don't worry."

"I should've been there for you, and I wasn't. I'm really sorry."

Evan swallowed dryly. 

"It's really okay. I shouldn't have scared you like that."

"I- I'm still sorry."

He didn't know how to respond to that. There was a beat of silence. 

"Jenna made you a get well soon card," Jared chuckled, pushing forward the piece of paper that had been facing down on the table. Evan looked at it; there was a crudely drawn flower on the front, with 'Evan' written in a child's handwriting. He smiled softly; Jared's youngest sister had taken quite the liking to Evan at the multiple dinners and get togethers that both of their families had attended. He wasn't too good with kids, or anyone for that matter, but Jenna didn't seem to mind his stuttering and anxious nature. Under the flower was a large smiley face,  and 'Get better soon' in the same writing. Evan smiled up at Jared. "She's sweet."

"Yeah. Listen, bud, I'm gonna come see you again at some point, and I'll stay for longer, but I was just dropping in today."

"That's okay. Say hi to everyone for me."

"I will, yeah," Jared offered an obviously forced smile, standing up. Evan stood with him.

He tucked the flower drawing under the pile of letters in his drawer. He didn't tell Connor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> I wrote this while spinning three plates on my toe, i think i deserve a comment.  
> :p  
> (Edit: I DIDNT THINK WHILE WRITING THIS THAT JARED WAS JEWISH SO I HAD TO CHANGE THE THINGABOUT CHRISTMAS GOD IM SMART RIGHT)


	10. Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez

"Do you ever think about what's gonna happen after you get out of here?"

Evan had halted at the question.

"What?"

"We can't jut stay here forever. What's gonna happen when we get out?"

"We'll just go back to our lives, right?"

"Will we, though? Or will I always be Connor Murphy, the kid who died but didn't. Will you always be Evan Hansen, the kid who broke his arm instead of dying?"

Evan couldn't answer. Connor was looking at him through the dark.

"I'm- I'm sorry-"

"Evan, you don't have to be sorry. I'm just saying. We'll either die here, or live our own ways out. What's gonna happen to us?"

Whatever it was, Evan hoped it happened to them both, together.

He really liked Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> i literally wrote this while almost falling asleep  
> i deserve a comment  
> Im really sorry this was so short I was really tired and like  
> Yeah  
> I promise Friday's update will be better


	11. Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez

Connor had clearly had a hard day.

Evan liked to listen; he wasn't much of a talker. Connor liked to rant, and that was okay. Because Evan could always listen, even if he couldn't do anything more.

Today, Evan had been feeling pretty terrible, but Connor was more important than Evan feeling shitty. 

"And- And nobody actually cares once you- I just- I hate everything! I hate everyone!"

Evan was sitting cross-legged on his bed, and at Connor's loud exclamation, his head shot up. He winced at the slight pain. 

"Y- You do? Everyone?"

Connor seemed to soften. "You know I didn't mean that."

And Evan did, but he wasn't thinking straight. He couldn't all day, something was making him think weirdly. He said nothing in response. 

"Evan," 

"I'm sorry, I just- I-" He looked at his lap, shaking his head softly.

Connor gave him a look, taking a cautious step forward. He felt bad; Evan was probably going through stuff of his own right now and Connor was just making everything about him. He perched on the corner of Evan's bed, not daring to speak for a long time. 

Then he did something he'd never done before. 

He reached out and touched him.

It was a soft, fleeting brush of fingers against cheek, but it was a touch.

A crimson blush spread across Evan's face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again. 

"You're hot," Connor stated, looking at his hand as if he'd just been burnt. Evan apologised profusely, blush deepening. 

"It's all good, little guy, are you feeling okay?"

Evan hesitated, before nodding. 

"You're-" Connor set a hand on Evan's forehead, "Really warm."

"No, no- no I'm fine." 

That was a blatant lie, but Evan didn't want Connor worrying. He also didn't want Connor to feel like he had to look after him. He was too scared to let anyone do that anyway.

"Sure?"

"...Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> glory to arstozka  
> the end


	12. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (Vomit warning yall)

Evan tried to hide how bad he was feeling for the rest of the night, and for the most part, it worked. He didn't eat much at dinner, but he didn't often. Connor talked at him for a while and tore up a piece of paper. Evan salvaged a few scraps from the pile he left on the desk and tucked them into his drawer, the amount of paper inside steadily getting bigger. He managed to slip away to bed earlier than usual and prayed Connor didn't notice and that he felt better in the morning.

But Connor did notice. He didn't believe Evan's claims of wellbeing but wasn't about to bring it up. If Evan didn't want to be fussed over, he didn't have to be. It was his choice; Connor wasn't about to intervene.

He was concerned, but Evan's business was his business.

Or it was, until Evan's business was darting across the room at five am and slamming the bathroom door. Then it became Connor's business.

He heard the distinct sounds of retching and heaving coming from behind the door and he cringed. He knew Evan had been lying.

For a long time the door was closed, then Evan staggered out and flopped face first on his bed with a noise that was too weak to be a sob and too harsh to be a sigh.

Connor had learnt one thing while he'd been in this hospital: he didn't trust many people, but when he really trusted someone, he had to be good to them. He felt bad for how much he'd lashed out at the people he cared about, and he was trying to change. The thing about the hospital was that he was forced to be clean and taught how to deal with it. Evan was a start; someone to start being good to. So he was trying his best to be good to him.

"Evan?"

"Wait-" Evan sat up, wincing. He looked at Connor in the half-light, pouting slightly without even realising it. "I'm so sorry."

Connor stood up, shaking his head and padding over to perch on the end of Evan's bed. "You didn't wake me," he lied, "It's chill."

Evan seemed a tiny bit at ease with that. 

"Still, sorry."

"It's alright, is there anything you need? Get in bed, I'll get you water."

Evan tried to protest, but Connor hushed him,

"I'm trying to be nice to you, Hansen, I'm getting you water."

There was a plastic cup next to each of heir beds and Connor took Evan's into the bathroom, rinsing it out before filling it with water and bringing it back. "Do you need the trash can?"

Evan shook his head, but made to get up moments later, colour draining from his face. Connor practically threw the trash can at it and he hugged it as he gagged. Connor ran a hand up and down his back, hushing him quietly. 

Evan sat back against his pillows, looking at Connor. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, glassy eyes trailing lazily from the floor to the sheets to Connor's face. 

"It's okay. Grab some rest, yeah? I'll talk to a nurse in the morning."

Evan nodded, but whined as Connor went to leave.

"Stay?"

"F-" He sighed, wiping the curse from his lips. "Where?"

Connor sat on a chair all night talking nonsense to a fever-delirious Evan. 

The things he did to be a better person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drpo a comment if you hated it  
> I was playing shortstop in a major league baseball game as i wrote this  
> we won   
> i deserve a comment


	13. Trying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> sorry this is so short, i'm busy rn and stuff's hectic, I promise updates will be better once thing start getting better for me

Evan was bed bound for a couple of days. 

He found it hard to sleep, harder to eat. Connor brought him water, talked to him until 2 am. He really was trying. 

Yes, he snapped a couple of times, and yes, Evan may have cried, but Connor was trying. He always apologised and brought tissues and spoke softly. Evan felt bad for crying in front of him.  

One day he came into the room and sat down on his bed and said nothing for a very long time. Evan, still sick, had made his way over and talked about nothing and been there. Connor thanked him profusely. He really was trying. 

There were nights that Evan was woken up by the frantic running of water, Connor breathing heavy, but he never said anything. That was fine; he didn't have to talk to Evan about it. He suspected nightmares, but he couldn't be sure. 

In Connor's dreams, he's chasing a girl with shocking blue streaks in her hair. Then he's running after a woman in a cardigan. Then he's met with a ledge, and he runs off. He can't stop running; it's like there's something chasing him. But he runs off the ledge, and he thinks it's over, but then he's chasing a girl in a baseball shirt with dull red hair. 

Usually, they both run off a ledge and fall forever.

But recently, he'd started chasing a boy in a blue shirt. 

He was terrified of the next ledge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> i wrote this while delivering someone else's baby.   
> i deserve a comment


	14. Odd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (warning for internalised homophobia and self harm mentions in this chapter, be safe loves ~~)

He couldn't be.

He just couldn't be.

He'd seen the way some people treated... people like that.

It was horrible; kids sent home from school with bust lips or broken noses, slurs sharpied onto lockers. He'd grown up being told that a man fell in love with a woman and that was final. Always a mommy and a daddy; never two mommies or two daddies. 

Which is why he couldn't be. 

Connor had disappointed his family enough. He didn't need this as an extra reason for them to wish he was never born. 

So he couldn't be. No question.

Before, when the noise in his head was too loud and the only way he could think to get any relief was hurting himself and getting high, he hadn't even thought about anyone like that.

Then as he started on his long and admittedly quite bumpy road to recovery, he never felt that way about girls. Maybe that was because the only girl his age was Mikaela and she was too close to him for him to even consider thinking of her in any way other than a friend; a rock. 

So why was he thinking this way now? 

Once, he'd read an article, in one of the awful magazines that littered the tables in this place, about lesbian relationships in prison. It said inmates formed relationships because they were scared and they needed something to cling to.

He was trying to convince himself that's what he was doing.  He was just scared and trying to find something to hold onto. 

He couldn't be. He just couldn't be.

That's what he repeated to himself as he tried frantically to wash the blood away from under his fingernails. 

_You can't be. You cannot be._

_Connor, you can't be gay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> I wrote this while programming a rocket to fly to pluto to give it a hug.  
> i deserve a comment.  
> hey yall can i just say a huge thank you for ever comment, kudos and kind word about this story? I never thought it'd take off this much and I'm so glad it has. I read every single comment and appreciate each and every one, so thank you all so much! A lot of yall seem like amazing peeps so please feel free to message my ig (@fourohsixfour) or my tumblr (@wilfstar) because I'd LOVE to be friends with some of yall!!!!


	15. Conflicted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> decided to update today because I was procrastinating on a big future project... (yeah, stay tuned kids :p) and i thought yall deserved this considering how much support you've been giving me and this fic <3 Love to all (but mostly casey,, hi babe)  
> yet more internalised homophobia ahead, but some niceness towards the end!

Connor was conflicted. 

He wanted to be nice; he wanted to become the opposite of the person he used to be. Evan deserved that. Everyone deserved that. 

But he couldn't get any closer to Evan. 

He was just scared, just looking for something to hold on to. He wasn't actually feeling this. No way. He couldn't be. He had no explanation for it; he just couldn't feel like this. 

He was too scared to bring it up in therapy, too scared to talk to anyone about it. He had nowhere to turn. This wasn't normal, right? Normal kids didn't feel like this. 

So he couldn't either.

* * *

 

"Hey, Connor?" Evan had offered a rare smile, sliding into the chair on Connor's left. 

"What do you want?" 

Evan was taken aback. Usually Connor didn't talk to him like that. His mind started racing. What had he done? Was Connor mad at him? Was Connor okay? Was he being too clingy?

"Wh-what's wrong? Are you okay? Is there something I can do because-"

"I don't need your help!" Connor had snapped, glaring daggers at Evan.

"O-Oh. Okay. I'm sorry..."

"Whatever," He mumbled, "Just... go away. Please."

Evan had scampered off and tried not to cry. 

Evan Hansen cared too much. He cared about people he saw crying and he cared about what everyone thought of him and he cared way, way too much about whatever he'd done to Connor Murphy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment if you liked it  
> drop a comment if you hated it  
> I wrote this because i love yall  
> share some love in the comments!  
> Compliment someone, or write a positive message for people to read. I'll be reading every single one!


	16. No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> yes, it's friday  
> upd8 day

"How long have you been feeling like this?"

"About three weeks."

"Right," she wrote something down. "And is there a specific person you... feel like this towards?"

Connor drew in a deep breath. 

"Evan Hansen."

"Evan Hansen," She repeated. "You're in the same room."

"Yes," Connor bit his lip, shaking his head. He didn't want to talk about this.

He'd lashed out at Evan again. He felt horrible, he felt like a monster.

Evan had just been trying to talk to him and he'd yelled at him. What was his problem? Why was he like this?

"This is okay, Connor. It's alright to feel this way."

Connor shook his head. The therapist in front of him crossed her legs. 

"I've been taught my whole life it isn't."

She noted something else down. "By who?"

"My dad, mostly, when I was little. Not so much anymore, but it's stuck there."

"Right," She gave him a sympathetic look. "We need to tackle this. You should apologise to Evan, that can be a start. Tomorrow we'll talk about your family again."

Oh, great.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop a comment etc etc  
> i wrote this while surrounded by bees?  
> i deserve a comment?


	17. Why

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> only a short one today peeps, life is stressful rn. I'm not out for summer yet so school is still killing me, but I won't disappooint my invisible people ghosts and tumbleweed who eagerly await my updates.  
> (Quite a few self-harm mentions ahead, please stay safe)

Evan had replayed his conversations with Connor a hundred million times. What had he done wrong? Obviously something. 

The voice in his head was like a bully.

_If you tell anyone, I'll just hurt you more. Don't snitch, Evan, nobody likes a snitch. You'll have no chance of anyone loving you if you go around tattling._

He laid in bed at night and listened to the little claws scratching around in his skull. He was too scared to say anything to anyone about it. 

He felt like maybe, Connor might understand. From the way he still scratched, still, at the never-healing gashes down his arms, and the stories he'd told Evan, he thought Connor might understand. 

 _But Connor hates you,_ Evan reminded himself _, you can't talk to him._

Evan knew Connor would understand. Everything in here was dull or too small to hurt anyone, but Evan knew all too well the feeling of blunt nails running over skin still damp from a burning shower. 

When he'd lost Connor, he'd lost something tethering him to earth. 

Everyone felt pain. Everyone in the world.

Evan used that as a tether. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drop that comment like it's hot  
> or cold  
> don't let me dictate your comment's temperature man  
> (Short but effective i think? this is what you're getting like it or not, sorry loves.)


	18. Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez

It took three days for Connor to bring himself to talk to Evan again.

He'd slid down in the seat next to him at breakfast and offered a small and faked smile.

"Hey, buddy," was his opener, and he winced at it.

Evan looked confused. "Hey?"

There was silence for a moment, and Connor swallowed thickly.

"Look, Evan, I'm sorry."

"No! No, no, why are you sorry? You haven't even done anything, you're fine, I should be sorry- I  _am_ sorry- but you're fine."

Connor shook his head. "No, I should be sorry. I acted like a dick to you for no reason, okay, that isn't alright."

Evan was silent. Connor carried on, "I want to explain, if that's okay with you?"

"Go ahead." 

There was a pause. Connor took a deep breath. He had to restart his train of thought a few times. "I've been dealing with some... some feelings that I've never dealt with before. And it scared me to death. It's the scariest thing I've come by while I've been in here, and I've met people who would kill me with their bare hands and people who conspire with thin air. I wasn't sure how to deal with it and I took it out on you, and I'm really,  _really_ sorry. You don't have to forgive me; hell, I wouldn't. But I want you to know that I'm sorry."

Evan bit his lip. He was silent for a long time, before he sucked in a shaky breath and nodded. 

"I know how not being able to deal with that kind of thing is," He said after a long while. Connor was fighting the urge to cry, but he wasn't sure why. "You're not mad at me, right?"

"No! God, no."

"I forgive you, Connor, I really do. I- it wasn't your fault. I think everyone, really, deserves, um, deserves a second chance? And you're no different. You're my friend." There was a pause, "The only friend I've got."

A lot of things were scary in here.

People were scary. Stories were scary.

All the pencils were tiny, that was scary. You could never, ever,  _ever_ get an extra slice of bacon or something, god forbid. That wasn't so much scary as just very odd.

Connor was scared of losing people again. But as of right now, Evan was the only people he had.

Evan scared him. He was so quick to forgive, and it made Connor think.

If someone fucked up worse than Connor had, would Evan forgive them? When would he stop being forgiving? Could he just let someone hurt him over and over and forgive them?

That was the day Connor made it his mission to protect Evan Hansen.

If from nothing else, from himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you.  
> yes you.  
> put words in a box so i can see them.  
> some examples of words you might want to put: apple, yellow, crayfish, pepsi, trailer, design.


	19. Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (SOMEONE still has internalised homophobia issues please be safe if this triggers or affects you.)

It was like one step forward and two steps back with this. 

Some days Connor almost owned it. He was by no means proud, not yet, but some days he almost just accepted it. _Yep, I'm not straight. Whatever._

The next day it could be utter hell.  _Why am I like this? This isn't normal. God, everyone's going to hate you._

Then two days later he could be back to being okay with it again. 

When his therapist started using phrases like 'internalised homophobia' he wanted to curl into himself and die. He was trying his best to be a good kid; making his best efforts with Evan, being nicer to his family on the rare occasions they came to visit, and then she started saying things like that? Connor felt terrible. 

She explained that it wasn't his fault; that it comes from society and family and all sorts of other things and that lots of LGBT young people feel like that at some point in their journey. He'd wanted to stop her then; he'd wanted to cry, wanted to crawl away and never deal with people again. He wasn't even sure why.

He hadn't been too talkative after that, really, and had to stop in the hall after she's let him go to hold back a flood of tears.

Evan was sat cross-legged on his bed, a book in his hand, when Connor slipped back into their room, and didn't look up as the door closed. Connor took a moment to look at him, appreciate the way he looked for just a second before he disappeared into the bathroom. 

Evan looked at him when he returned, smiling softly. "Hey," he'd murmured, and Connor had offered a rare smile. 

* * *

 

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

_~~I think you're really cool~~   
_

_~~I'm glad you're my friend~~ _

_~~You're awesome~~ _

_I don't know what to say so I drew you a tree to make you happy. Enjoy._
    
    
           ###
          #o###
        #####o###
       #o#\#|#/###
        ###\|/#o#
         # }|{  #
           }|{

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you.  
> yes you.  
> put words in a box so i can read them.  
> some examples of words you might want to put: goat, lemon, plaid, rocket, tube, piano, baby.  
> IMPORTANT NOTES:  
> -Thank you guys so. effing. much for all the support n love this story is getting! I'm so glad y'all are enjoying it and hope you continue to do so!!!  
> -Updates will start becoming more frequent as I have another project I want to start but I need to finish this first! stay tuned, you never know when I might spring a chapter on you. Lots of love.


	20. Drawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez

It started with Evan.

It started with Evan starting to trust Connor more. 

It started with Evan seeing Connor as an actual friend rather than just someone to hold onto at the mental hospital. 

Connor remembered the moment that happened vividly. 

Connor was taken out of dinner to talk to someone he'd never met before about what his 'options' were. He told Evan it was just a talk about nothing important, so as not to worry him. Evan hadn't had this discussion yet. 

There were three more talks about 'options', in which big words like 'job', and 'future' were thrown around like they meant nothing. 

Almost a week after Connor's first conversation, Evan had his. 

"Has someone been talking to you about getting out of here?" Evan had asked in a panic as he entered the room. Conor had nodded, standing up. 

"Why'd you ask?"

"I just got the first talk," Evan explained. "It was terrifying."

Connor took a step forward, abandoning the sketch he'd been fiddling with on the table. "Are you okay?"

A beat.

"No."

"Why not?"

Evan seemed to choke on his words. Connor ushered him to sit down and they both perched on opposite ends of Evan's bed.

"I'm scared to go back- What if I feel like I felt before? What if someone's mad at me for it, or, or- my mom- she'll  _hate me._ When she knows what I tried to do-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Connor cut him off. "It's okay. If she hates you, you can come to me. I'll look after you until she comes to her senses. I could never hate you."

Evan gave him a look. "I couldn't just- just barge into your life like that."

Connor just shrugged. 

"And-" Evan continued, "What about school? After you- after- the rumour spread like wildfire. Everyone's gonna have talked bout us both, and- and what if they try to talk to me, and I don't know what to say, and then I- or-"

Connor shook his head.

"Evan," he said calmly. Evan stopped talking. "If anyone tries to give you shit, I'll talk some sense into them." He made a big show of cracking his knuckles as he spoke, which made Evan sort of smile. "I've seen you, Evan, I've noticed you. You're not with people a lot. Sometimes that Jared kid, but he's an asshole."

Evan made to interject, but Connor held up a finger to halt him.

"I'm monologuing here, just a minute. I've seen you with Alana too, but she's no better. We were in an English project together in, like, tenth grade. I want to actually be your friend, because the Insanely Cool Jared Kleinman who is failing math only wants to be your friend so his parents pay his car insurance."

Evan blinked. He thought. Then he nodded. "You're right. I like Jared, though, and Alana. But-" he didn't know how to word it. Connor had seen parts of Evan that he hadn't even seen himself. Connor knew him. Connor was different to Jared and Alana; because they were both his friends and he cared about them both deeply, but Connor was different. Different in a way Evan couldn't describe.

"I get you. It was just a thought." Connor shrugged.

"I really want to be friends with you!" Evan blurted, eyes widening a little. 

"I'm glad. I really want to be friends with you too."

"You know me, like, differently."

Connor just nodded; he understood. 

There was a long beat of silence, in which both of them smiled. 

"If anyone tries to give you any shit, I'll look at them the wrong way and they'll be oh-so-terrified, because of course I'm scary as all shit."

Evan laughed at that, which made Connor's chest light up a bit. 

"You don't scare me at all."

A beat. A widened smile.

"I'm glad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you.  
> yes you.  
> put some word in a box so i can see them.  
> here are some words you might want to put: rain, crown, blowfish, polkadot, tiger, scalene.  
> (The final chapters for this fic are all planned out. I'm absolutely terrified to end it. Thank you all so, so much.)


	21. Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez  
> (Important notes at the end!!!)

Connor didn't even notice until Evan mentioned it aloud.

"I'm kinda sad, y'know, now my cast is gone."

Connor had startled. He'd looked at Evan's arm and, sure enough, it was bare. 

"Why? Your arm's all better now."

There was silence. Evan stammered. "I-I know, but, Mikaela, she signed it, and-" He trailed off. 

A realisation hit Connor like a brick. 

He hadn't even thought about Mikaela for... well, for a long time. His brain had been too busy with Evan and battling his gay feelings and trying to be nice that she'd faded into the background of his brain and he only thought about her when he lay awake at three am and didn't remember his thoughts the next morning. 

Somehow he'd accepted it.

That was... odd. But he'd take it. 

One less thing to fight with himself over. 

* * *

 

Two weeks. Both of them had two weeks.

That was terrifying. 

Two turned into one;  _that_ was terrifying. 

Half-formed questions flew around his head and clouded his vision. Evan looked him in the eyes and knew instantly that something was wrong.

Connor didn't remember much from the next hour, just that he'd cried a lot and it made his stomach roll; Evan had tried to be reassuring. They'd sat together on the floor and Evan had made a beautiful style in Connor's hair that he was too out of it and tired to appreciate at that moment in time. 

Three days later it was Evan's turn to cry. Evan cried differently to Connor: where Connor curled into himself and hugged his knees and gasped for breath, Evan tangled his fingers in the comforter and flat-out sobbed into his palm and struggled to talk. He was easier to calm, though, just a gentle, rhythmic hand up and down the back and soft words that meant nothing and Evan was calm - if red-eyed and tired. Connor talked to him softly as he calmed down, and somewhere in the process Evan's head wound up on his shoulder. 

"I'm gonna be your friend when we get out of here, and everyone's going to be glad to have you back. Your mom's going to have missed you, and your friends are going to be happy to see you. And you'll have me, and if anyone tries to start on you, I'll protect you from that. You're in a lot of my classes, right? I'll walk with you, if you need that. I understand what you've just gone through, Evan, you know that I do, I've been with you. And I'm gonna stay with you."

Evan had grabbed onto the back of Connor's jacket and Connor had let him. There was quiet for a long time, but it was comforting quiet. 

"I'm sleepy," Evan had whispered. Connor nodded; he'd expected as much. 

"I'll be here if you need me."

* * *

 

In Connor's dreams that night he's chasing a girl with shocking blue streaks in her hair. Then he's running after a woman in a cardigan. Then he's met with a ledge, and he runs off. He can't stop running; it's like there's something chasing him. But he runs off the ledge, and he thinks it's over, but then he's chasing a girl in a baseball shirt with dull red hair. Then he's chasing the boy in the blue shirt. This is all standard. 

But then, something new. 

The boy stopped. So did Connor. The usually dark place they were both running in turned white with light and hope. 

Instead of a ledge ahead of him he saw a door.

He woke up before he could turn the handle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you.  
> yes you.  
> put some words in a box so i may see them.   
> Some words you may want to put: the, next, chapter, is, probably, going, to, be, the, last.  
> It's been an amazing run, and i'm so so so thankful for ever single one of you who has viewed this story and left your feedback, or just taken the time to read the whole thing. I'm massively thankful for ever single one of you, but I'll save the mushy tears for the next chapter.  
> <3


	22. Dear Evan Hansen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mak me famuz plez.  
> hooooo  
> this is the last one  
> thats the last time i'll ever type that  
> oh my gosh  
> it's been a good run, yall.   
> Without further babble, please enjoy the last chapter of this fic.   
> <3

2:24.

Six minutes. 

Connor took a shaky breath and looked at the floor. 

When he next glanced at the clock it was 2:26. 

Panic rose in his chest; four minutes left. Across the room, Evan shuffled with paper.

There was a moment of silence. Footsteps passed outside that made both of them raise their heads expectantly. They passed without interruption and Connor looked back at the ground. 

2:27. Three minutes to go. 

Neither of them had anything to say. Connor tried to think of a million ways to break the silence, but couldn't. The air was heavy with trembling sighs and the sound of rustling paper. 

2:28.

Two minutes to go.

Connor stood up and started to pace. Evan watched him for a few long moments before standing up himself. "Your pacing is making me anxious, are you okay?"

"Sorry," Connor mumbled, "I'm doing it because I'm anxious." He sighed and sat back down.

"It's gonna be okay. Do you still have the paper?" 

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out the small scrap of neatly folded paper that contained Evan's phone number. 

Evan smiled brightly. 

2:29. One minute left. 

Silence again. Evan sat next to him and leant slightly against Connor's arm. 

2:30.

Three curt knocks on the door. Connor's heart jumped up into his throat and he slung his bag up onto his shoulder. Evan jumped, scrambling to get his own stuff. 

The walk was agonising. Connor tied up his hair on the way down, which Evan found oddly endearing. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and walked close to Evan.

There was a flight of stairs and they had to go single file; the nurse in front of Connor in front of Evan. Then there was a tiny corridor that smelled of bleach, a wide door and bright light. 

Almost straight away Connor was tackled. He was taken aback at first, but he slowly wrapped his arms around his mother, who was holding him like he'd shatter if she let go. He might have. When she finally drew back to kiss his cheek and say how much she loved him, the rest of his family started to approach. Firstly Zoe, who eyed him with caution but in moments gave up and hugged him. Connor actually hugged her back, offering a little smile as she came away. Her eyes were dewy; Connor raised his eyebrows. She scowled. 

"I won't tell anyone," he murmured, half-smirking. 

Lastly came his dad, who had never been the hugging type, but still wrapped a careful, if slightly awkward, arm around his son's shoulders. Connor bit the inside of his mouth to keep from crying. 

For Evan came his mom, crying and apologising over and over. Evan tried his hardest not to, but he ended up crying with her, holding on to her like she was the only thing keeping him from floating away into space. She said a thousand times how much she loved him, and how glad she was that he was okay, and how sorry she was for not coming to visit and this and that. 

Heidi hugged him tightly for a very long time, and Evan hugged her back just as tightly, until they were both calmed down enough to share a small smile. 

"Anyways," she murmured, smiling. "Jared's here."

Sure enough, Jared was there, engaged in conversation with the Murphys. There were tear-stained smiles and hands resting on backs. 

Zoe seemed to nod in Evan's direction, and Jared excused himself, only stopping to hold eye contact with Connor's dad for all of three seconds before rushing over to Heidi's side. 

Jared  _really_ wasn't much of a hugger, but he offered a bro-hug, which Evan guessed was better than nothing. It lasted a couple seconds longer than it would've usually. 

* * *

 

Evan went home. He made his bed, which had been left untouched since the day he'd let go. He took a cold shower in his own bathroom, with his own soap. He sat with his mom and they watched TV; decided on going out for dinner. There was a brief silence at one point and Heidi had filled it with the question they'd both known was coming. 

"Do you want to talk about... all that?"

Evan had burst into tears again, uttering apology after apology, and Heidi had held him again and hushed him quietly as if he was a little kid again and some kid had pushed him off the slide in the playground. 

She only spoke again when there was quiet. 

"Evan, sweetie, I'm not mad. I'm not upset with you at all. We're gonna get through this, honey." She took both of his hands and squeezed them tight, which triggered another bout of crying. Heidi spoke through it. "We're gonna get by. You're gonna keep getting help like you were and we're going to get by, and I promise you that someday this will all feel a million miles away."

Evan had nodded, smiling a little and wiping his eyes with a hoodie-paw. 

* * *

 

Connor went home. He sat downstairs and talked to his mother for hours. It started in tears, required Zoe as a voice of reason, and ended with Cynthia making a therapist appointment for Connor. They ate dinner as a family, discussed fond memories. Connor talked about Mikaela, and Cynthia was subdued. 

"We'll go see her," she promised her son, and Connor smiled. 

He curled up on the sofa as some bad TV show from the 80s played on TV, a book in his hands and both of his parents as comforting presences in the room. 

Zoe came in and plucked the book out of his hands. 

"Floor is lava," she announced, and jumped onto the sofa. Connor looked at her for a moment, but pulled his feet off the floor. Across the room, discreetly, Cynthia pulled her legs up under herself. Zoe laughed. 

Connor stood up, steadying himself on the wall, and stepped onto a footstool a little way away. Zoe scowled at him and clambered onto the chair recently vacated by their father. They were parallel now, staring each other down. 

"You have nowhere to go," Connor pointed out. 

"Neither do you," Zoe countered, which was true, until Connor proudly took off his sweater and threw it onto the floor, standing on it. 

"I win," He deadpanned, and shuffled off with the hoodie around his feet. 

Both Zoe and Cynthia could hear him burst into laughter once he was ten feet out of the room.

There was silence for a moment. 

Both of them fought tears.

* * *

 

"Connor,  _please_ don't punch him!" 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Please!"

Connor refrained, but shot a piercing glare at the boy who was currently badmouthing Evan. 

People had a lot to say when they came back to school; mostly stupid comments about suicide and a few choice words about gay people, which was amazing for Connor's self-esteem. 

Evan had stuck to Connor's side like glue since they went back to school. People had been so  _harsh_ , so unforgiving and careless, it was horrible. 

Connor wasn't sure he'd have made it without Evan. His constance was grounding; his familiarity a soother in the vast and fathomless pit of hell that was highschool. 

They'd text a lot. Meaningless conversations at four am calming panic attacks and stopping relapses. Connor was nearing two months clean. 

He went to therapy again, got put on more meds. They worked; it helped. He held fast to his philosophy of trying to be nicer, and for the mostpart it worked. 

He still had bad days, but of course he did. Didn't everyone? He knew Evan did. 

Cynthia went with him to Mikaela's grave. They put down flowers and Connor told his mother every story he could think of. She cried, which made him cry, which earned them looks from passing people.

* * *

 

For the first time in four years, the Murphy family went to the Autumn Smile Apple Orchard. They walked the long fields and joked about when Connor and Zoe were kids; found the creek Larry had flown their toy plane into and laughed about it. 

Connor took Evan there one day. A good few months after they got out. 

Connor laid on the grass and started at the sky. The clouds were painted pink and orange by the setting sun. 

Evan talked about the nature around them, and Connor, at some point, turne onto his side to watch him, a small smile on his face. 

After a while he fell silent. 

Then,

"Connor I think I'm bisexual."

There was a beat of silence. 

"That's pretty cool, dude."

Evan smiled. 

Connor pointed at a random bush, "What kind of tree is that?"

And Evan started talking again. 

* * *

It was 4 am. 

[Connor go to bed]

_[I need a hug I cant]_

[If I hug you tomorrow will you go to bed?]

 _[Yes_ ]

That excited Evan a little bit. Hugs were always nice. 

Connor's hugs were moreish. He held you in just a way that was close enough to be calming but not tight enough to be uncomfortable. His hoodie was soft and his head rested perfectly on Evan's shoulder. 

More 4 am conversations exposed feelings, some positive, some negative. 

Another walk in the orchard exposed yet more feelings.

They were linked, Connor's left arm in Evan's right. 

"I really like you." Connor just blurted it, blushing deeply.

Quiet.

"I really like you too."

"No, I  _really like_ you."

More quiet. Evan chuckled.

"I  _really like_ you too."

Stunned silence. 

Connor dropped Evan's arm and turned to face him. There was dead silence, and then Connor threw his arms around Evan's shoulders. He held him close, and Evan didn't object. Connor fought tears. 

"You do?"

"Yeah, like, a-a lot."

They staryed like that for a very long time and walked back to  the car holding hands.

* * *

 

Evan Hansen had bad days. He had nervous tics and bad habits and sometimes he lied. He couldn't talk to people and he couldn't order food by himself and he couldn't climb trees anymore.

Connor Murphy took mood stabilizers. He cut thumb holes in his jacket so his sleeves wouldn't ride up. He got angry sometimes and he said things he didn't mean, but he was working on it. 

Evan Hansen really liked Connor Murphy.

He didn't  _love_ Connor Murphy, at least not to start with. 

Love took time. Love, for them, took four months. 

Connor wasn't trying to fall for Evan, but sometimes accidents happened. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats it.  
> we're finished.  
> you can go home now.  
> (Jarry shippers where you at, this one was for y'all too)

**Author's Note:**

> please comment it's the light of my sad life :p  
> pls  
> (I have an instagram! @fourohsixfour i'd love to be friends/chat/just follow some of y'all!)


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